by Kenn Duncan
A dharma talk given April, 2024 A practice mostly known from the Zen tradition, but making its way into the western practices, is the practice of not knowing. A not-knowing mind, or sometimes referred to as a beginner’s mind. It is the mind that is innocent of preconceptions and expectations, judgments and prejudices. A mind that is just present to explore and observe and see “things as they are.” It’s kind of like facing life like a small child, full of curiosity and wonder and amazement. “I wonder what this is? I wonder what that is? I wonder what this means?” Without approaching things with a fixed point of view or a prior judgment, just asking “What is it?” I heard notes of this practice first from Gil Fronsdal, and explored a little bit some of the teachings of Zen Master Suzuki Roshi, but dug deeper a few years back after a Frank Turner concert. Frank Turner: “Today’s day and age and with all the new social media craze - we spend a lot of time disagreeing with each other and holding our ground no matter what we really know or don’t know…" He suggests that we try using this expression “I don’t know”… “as we get older we start to realize that we don’t really know anything about anything and neither does anybody else.” Secondarily, “I’ve changed my mind”, letting go of what we think we know to open ourselves up to a new understanding or way of thinking. “Take a Breath, try these for size…I don’t know, I’ve changed my mind, between life and death we’ll find the time to get it right”. – Frank Turner from “Get It Right” Suzuki Roshi notes in his book Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s there are few.” Not knowing, we meet our experience with a mind that simply doesn’t know, that is open to possibility, that has some wonder, that is not demanding a situation to be a certain way or a person to be a certain way, not requiring ourselves to be a certain way, not putting limits on things, not contracting with our thoughts. A not-knowing mind can be relaxed with how things are, and is spacious and relaxed.
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by Carol Russell
A dharma talk given May 21, 2024 This is something I have been considering lately. The Buddha seemed very interested in working with what it is to be a human being. After he encountered the four sights as a young man (old age, sickness, death, and an ascetic person), what he saw sent him on his spiritual search After his ascetic phase, in which he had so mortified his body he nearly starved himself, he realized this way of denial was not leading to the end of suffering. In his realization, he no longer sought to transcend the human body. The teachings he brought forth recognize humanness, the human condition. After his liberation, he brought his teachings right into this conventional everyday muddled human life. He illuminated the middle way as a way to liberation from dissatisfaction: not indulging and not denying. We eat, so instead of getting rid of eating, which didn’t go well for him, he brought in teachings around eating. Teachings we now have of self-care, of non-harming, of mindful eating. He recommended we seek out quiet spaces to practice. But instead of insisting on total silence, and having aversion to the inevitable noise, he taught how to incorporate sound into practice. Through this we learn that nothing is outside of mindfulness. Humans are talkers, so he made recommendations for how speech might be used that is mindful and appropriate to the situation. This is the subject of tonight’s talk. Wise speech. In fact, mindful speech holds a prominent place in these teachings. This is surely a reflection of how important the Buddha regarded communication. In the Noble Eightfold Path teachings, a wholistic practical summary of the path, wise speech is singled out as one of the eight keys of practice leading to liberation. Wise speech gets its very own place By Carol Russell
A dharma talk given April 2, 2024 From Anguttara Nikaya Sutta 9.3 With Meghiya [In February I was on a week-long retreat with Brian Lesage & Diana Clark. Over five of the retreat days, they gave five dharma talks that corresponded to this teaching. Some of this talk comes from my notes from that retreat, some from my own thoughts.] The story of Meghiya begins as many Buddhist stories do: so I have heard. The Buddha is staying near Calika. Meghiya was the Buddha’s attendant. One day Meghiya goes up to the Buddha and asks to go to the nearby village for alms. The Buddha agrees. So, in the morning, Meghiya robes up, takes his bowl, and goes for almsround. On his way back, he walks along the shore of the river and comes upon a mango grove. He thinks: “Oh, this mango grove is lovely and delightful! This is good enough for striving for someone wanting to strive. If the Buddha allows me, I’ll come back to this mango grove to meditate.” When he got back to the Buddha, Meghiya asks if he can go to the mango grove to meditate. The Buddha asks him to wait, since there’s no one else there to help out. He asks that Meghiya wait until someone else shows up to take Meghiya’s place. A bit later, Meghiya is impatient and says, Hey, there’s nothing else to do. How about now? Can I go to the mango grove to meditate? Again, the Buddha says, We’re alone Meghiya. Wait until someone else comes. A third time Meghiya asks: “Sir, the Buddha has nothing more to do, and nothing that needs improvement. But I have. If you allow me, I’ll go back to that mango grove to meditate.” The Buddha says, “Meghiya, since you speak of meditation, what can I say? Please, Meghiya, go at your convenience.” Meghiya goes to the mango grove, plunges deep into it, and sits down at the root of a tree for the day’s meditation. But while he is meditating, he is beset by three kinds of bad, unskillful thoughts, namely, sensual, malicious, and cruel thoughts. by Carol Russell
A dharma talk given October 18, 2022 Gratitude for the inspiration for this talk goes to David Loy, Buddhist scholar, practicing Zen Buddhist and one of the founders of Rocky Mountain Ecodharma Retreat Center, and to Joanna Macy, PhD, Buddhist scholar, systems thinker, activist, and root teacher for the Work That Reconnects. ---- Philosopher and social commentator Noam Chomsky recently said, "We’re approaching the most dangerous point in human history." He includes the potential for climate catastrophe, the threat of nuclear war, as well as the rise in authoritarian governments and the decline of democracy around the world, as the most pressing and threatening dangers to the world at this time. What does Buddhism offer us in these times? Are we here to ‘wake up?’ Does that mean our own personal salvation journey or are we here to wake up to what is happening in the world? Maybe less so now, in Western Buddhism, but historically, there has been an interpretation that the goal of practice is to transcend this world – not being reborn is the ultimate attainment. This can lead to a kind of indifference to and withdrawal from the threats to the world. Why be concerned with fixing the problems of the world if the goal is to get out of here? Joseph Campbell, author and scholar of religion and mythology said: Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble. Is this true in Buddhism? By Mark Donovan A Dharma Talk given November 30, 2021 I wanted to start tonight's talk with a poem:
The Buddha's Last Instruction, by Mary Oliver “Make of yourself a light,” said the Buddha, before he died. I think of this every morning as the east begins to tear off its many clouds of darkness, to send up the first signal – a white fan streaked with pink and violet, even green. An old man, he lay down between two sala trees, and he might have said anything, knowing it was his final hour. The light burns upward, It thickens and settles over the fields. Around him, the villagers gathered and stretched forward to listen. Even before the sun itself hangs, disattached, in the blue air, I am touched everywhere by its ocean of yellow waves. No doubt he thought of everything that had happened in his difficult life. And then I feel the sun itself as it blazes over the hills, like a million flowers on fire - Clearly I’m not needed, yet I feel myself turning into something of inexplicable value. Slowly, beneath the branches, he raised his head. He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd. Sunday I worshiped in the tradition of my family at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church. The preacher, who was a child during the Cold War, remembered practicing “duck and cover” at school, the fear that arose in her with the loud and shrill ringing of sirens, images that played in her mind of victims from the nuclear bombs dropped in Japan. In 2018 she was visiting Maui when, you may remember, there was a false missile alert. The alert stated that there was an incoming ballistic missile threat, advised residents to seek shelter, and concluded: "This is not a drill". The preacher commented that once again she was paralyzed with fear. She wondered what had become of her faith. And she contrasted standing strong in faith and hope to a state of fearful paralysis. There is a really huge gulf between those states of being, isn’t there? I think this is at the heart of our spiritual practice--the good news that draws us to this practice like a moth to the light. It’s the message of a cross-stitch sampler that hangs on my wall and reads, “Fear knocked on the door, Faith answered. No one was there.” In a recent dharma talk on Dharma Seed, Brian Lesage described the spiritual journey in the following way: Exploring what can help our hearts to be here fully for this journey--this spiritual journey from birth to death, a journey that I hope this practice brings us more depth, kindness, love and wisdom. So we can have a wholeheartedness to our journey. Early Influences and Insights Howie Cohn has been teaching our Prescott Insight Fall Retreat for, I’m not sure, something like 16 years, so he’s an important guiding teacher for our Sangha. So, when I saw a link to this short interview on the registration page for an upcoming in-person retreat, I decided I had to pass it along!
I share it with you here with his permission. No one is sure when or with whom the interview was conducted (it must have been over 12 years ago now – he’s been leading his Mission Dharma sangha for over 35 years). I think you’ll find this to be an interesting and elucidating read! Q: What originally drew you to meditation practice and who were your first important teachers? Also, who do you consider your primary teacher these days (if you have one)? HC: I was a competitive athlete in my younger years, and I was always interested in the mind and body connection. I developed some homespun theories about how to live one’s life in a relaxed way based on what I was learning from sports. I probably irritated a few people with my theories about life when I tried them out. The real spark was meeting my freshman college girlfriend. Her brother was part of the original cadre of teachers that spread Transcendental Meditation in the Western world. I became interested in learning about it. Our romance didn’t last, but my interest in meditation did. Some years later I went to a Ram Dass retreat and met Stephen Levine, who was offering vipassana practice as part of the retreat. I soon moved to Santa Cruz to sit in Stephen’s weekly sitting group. Within several months, I sat my first 3-month retreat, followed by many more 3-months retreats. I consider Joseph Goldstein to be my root teacher in vipassana. He was such an inspiring guide for me on those early 3-month retreats. I still carry his depth of wisdom and commitment in my heart. In 1985, I became part of Jack Kornfield’s first teacher training group along with James Baraz, Sylvia Boorstein, Anna Douglas and Sharda Rogell. Jack has been such a wonderful teacher and mentor for me and my gratitude is boundless. By Carol Russell A Dharma talk given September 27, 2021 Yesterday morning I was on a hike and I ran into an old acquaintance, a local artist, someone I hadn’t seen in years. I was excited to see him, hear how his life has been, and connect. An interesting, although in retrospect maybe not uncommon, thing happened. He told me how well his life has been going, how the Pandemic hadn’t really changed anything for him; he was still making art. At some point I mentioned I hoped that the Pandemic was teaching us some things about working together to solve bigger problems that are causing suffering in the world. That set him off on a series of thoughts that made it clear that he and I had very different ideas about many things and he was eager to let me know his point of view. In the midst of it all I shared a few of my own contrasting views, which seemed to increased his opposition.
The conversation was friendly enough, but I walked away from the conversation without the experience of ‘connection’ that I had anticipated when I first saw this person on the trail. What is this experience of connection that can happen between people? And not just people, but also the experience of connection that transcends the person-to-person relationship. Like what we sometimes sense when we are connecting with an animal, or walking in nature, or looking at the starry sky, or deep in meditation. Buddhist literature abounds with contemporary writings about the illusion of separation that clouds our experience of our true nature of an open, connected, boundless heart. In Sharon Salzberg’s book, Lovingkindness- The Revolutionary Art of Happiness, she writes: By Mark Donovan
A Dharma Talk given March 16, 2021 I’m sorry to report, but last week there was fake news that was shared and spread in our Sangha. It was reported that I would have the last word on “suffering.” Do you want to know the truth? The truth is that as long as we are alive in these particular body-minds, the worldly winds will blow. Like that wind yesterday on the Ides of March; a date that coincided with the first full moon of the Roman calendar and when tributes were paid to gods and goddesses. That wind wore me out. The dogs and I climbed into bed and under the covers at 8:00 last night. I had started the day paying tribute to a 7-year old girl whose grandmother requested that I bake cupcakes for her birthday. The first cupcakes I’d ever made, marbled cake with chocolate buttercream frosting and blue and white sprinkles. A couple of weeks ago I held up the computer video for you to see the calligraphic sign I taped to the wall for the month with the word, “suffering.” I found that I didn’t really want to look at the sign. Although the calligraphy turned out pretty well, there was something I found aversive, dark and heavy about the word. To suffer, from the Latin sufferre meaning “to bear.” An image that comes to mind is of the god Atlas, on one knee, bearing the weight of the world. In our study of Ajahn Chah, he often used the phrase “patient endurance.” To bear, to endure. Over the weekend I participated in a Zoom retreat with Brian and Sebene titled Cultural and Spiritual Bypassing. We explored what gets left out, such as the feminine, in Buddhism. The Thai Buddhist tradition, the birthplace of Insight Meditation, will not ordain women. We can bring to mind multiple examples of American cultural dominance and oppression, such as the historical disenfranchisement of African-Americans, Native Americans and people of color. Last week the pope declared that any person who is not cisgendered heterosexual is a sinner. LGBTQ persons are left out. There is the present scapegoating and violence directed at Asian-Americans, a clear reaction to Trump’s blaming China for the pandemic, calling it the Chinese virus, and his dog whistling to white supremacists. And in all of this there is both personal and collective suffering. Besides the physical blows of violence, such as those we read about weekly now directed at elderly Asian-Americans in our cities, there is the hardening of hearts, the loss of rights and dignity, the pains of poverty. Last night on the PBS Newshour there was a report on Yemen and the millions of people there who are at risk of starvation, 600,000 children who are now dying of starvation. I felt consumed by pain watching the video documentary of their small bodies immobile, limbs shrunken to bones without muscle or flesh, stomachs bloated, huge eyes vacant, hauntingly filled with pain. And their parents and families bearing the pain of losing a young family member -- the impacts of war, climate change, famine. by Carol Russell A Dharma Talk given February 23, 2021 We are embarking on an exploration of the core of the Buddha’s teachings, the four noble truths. Our sangha’s founding leader, Carol Cook, had a tradition of beginning each year with an immersion into this subject, because it is utterly central and foundational to our practice. Carol has inspired us to take it up. Our plan is to take the four truths, one noble truth at a time, and for four weeks each of us will offer an exploration of the truth of the month. This should be especially interesting because of the fact that there are endless ways of examining such a profound teaching: historic, contemporary, esoteric, practical, psychological, experiential, scholarly, and on and on. We are hoping for some interesting conversations amongst all of us in these explorations. Whether it is the first time you are studying these truths or you are circling back for the hundredth time, we know there is always more to understand. We hope you will take the Buddha’s profound teachings into your daily life and share your fresh discoveries and insights when we meet on Tuesday nights. Simply put, the four noble truths are:
There is suffering. There is a cause of suffering. There is an end of suffering. The remedy is the eight-fold path. Did you ever wonder why these are called the ‘noble’ truths? Some say it is because these are the truths which cause nobleness. Of course, we are dealing with translations from the Pali language and a great deal of time passing, and the fact that the teachings were oral for some time, but I recently found this explanation: that it may be more accurate to say, the nobles’ truths, or the truths possessed by the noble ones. The dictionary definition of noble is: Having or showing qualities of high moral character, such as courage, generosity, and integrity. So, we are establishing a connection between acknowledging, understanding and freeing ourselves from suffering and these natural and noble qualities of courage, generosity, and integrity. The First Noble Truth, the truth of suffering. In Pali, the word is dukkha. The truth of dukkha. Sometimes dukkha is translated as ‘dissatisfaction.’ I like that word because it includes more than the overt times of suffering in life, it includes that background feeling that we all have at times that things aren’t reliably satisfying. No matter how great a life you have, this human life is bound to include stress. It may be those underlying existential questions like, what are we doing here? What is it all about? Dukkha is not personal, and it’s ubiquitous in the world of form and incarnation. Everyone has the experience of dissatisfaction. By Mark Donovan
A Dharma Talk given in August, 2020 Note: This piece is primarily a synthesis of two talks on Dharma Seed with text borrowed directly: Spiritual Hope by Tara Brach and Hope, Hopelessness and Equanimity by Jill Shepherd. I suppose I wanted to investigate hope to cheer myself up. I felt like I got clobbered over the head last month with a long bout of insomnia that threw me off balance. My mood was unstable with high anxiety related to lack of sleep, personal issues, and the background clamor of the pandemic and politics. I suffered. I was also aware that I wasn’t in this alone, that humanity as a whole is suffering at this time as the pandemic disrupts lives and livelihoods. And I appreciated the expressions from my doctor, and the director of the clinic where I work, who reminded me that many, many people are going through exactly what I was going through. Our suffering is universal. This time of massive transformation and uncertainty is both scary, with many of our old moorings loosened or lost, and also cause for new hope that a more fair and just world will emerge. Rebecca Solnit, in her essay “The Impossible Has Already Happened: What Coronavirus Can Teach Us About Hope,” writes “I have found over and over that the proximity of death in shared calamity makes many people more urgently alive, less attached to the small things in life and more committed to the big ones, often including civil society or the common good.” I imagine that some of you watched the televised funeral for John Lewis. Listening to stories from his life I felt great hopefulness. What a remarkable man, known for his “moral clarity,” a conscience backed by tireless action that for 60 years worked for equality and justice. A man who lived by his motto of “making good trouble,” civil disobedience, putting his body on the line as he led 600 people across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in 1965 for civil rights. He suffered a fractured skull, but that did not lead him to hate his attackers, but to continue making good trouble through non-violent means. Lewis said, “We must be bold, brave, courageous, and push and pull until we redeem the soul of America and move closer to a community at peace with itself, where no one will be left out because of race, color, or nationality.” He recently expressed pride as he watched his legacy in action: a new generation of activists fighting for equality. Lewis’ example of living into the promise of greater equality gives me inspiration and hope. Tara Brach would call this “spiritual hope”, this growing into a greater potential, the hope of what’s possible. |
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©Amanda Giacomini Detail of the Great Hall Mural Courtesy Spirit Rock Meditation Center Used with permission |